


You and My Guitar

by Miscellaneous_Ace



Series: Songfics [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: <- Hinted not explicitly stated, Ad'ika is Fluffy, Country Singer!Din Djarin, Crowded area, Dissociation, Doggo!Baby Yoda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Mention of Corin being triggered into a panic attack, NO ANIMAL ABUSE CAUSE I DON'T LIVE THAT LIFE EVEN FICTIONALLY!!!, Singer!Din Djarin, Some smoft flirts, Songfic, Triggered from a screaming crowd, bit of world building, child abuse in Corin's youth, dissociating Corin, indigenous Australian!Din Djarin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:21:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23228542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miscellaneous_Ace/pseuds/Miscellaneous_Ace
Summary: Din is a growing singing phenomenon, but his fiance gets triggered by his fans' screaming after his first concert.This is the recovery from that immediate reaction.(Aka this is Ace being given a song to write about and making a whole world Away from the song and only adds it in at the end lmaooooo)
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Songfics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670116
Comments: 17
Kudos: 38





	You and My Guitar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Annetagonist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annetagonist/gifts), [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts).



> "Why that name? Doesn't quite fit does it?" (you say when you've read this)  
> Well, dear future reader and figment of my anxiety, that is because this fic exists because mum wanted a fic based off of a John Williamson song, and emotionally I am bound to songfics currently, THUS this exists at all. The title is because that is the name of the song, and to be completely honest I couldn't be bothered making up a better one so get what you're given. 
> 
> But yeah, made this over the course of a day for my dear dear Aussie Mum (Annetagonist) on the Mandorin Discord because I love her and she wanted it.  
> So enjoy!! It's a hot mess but I like it!  
> (Ad'ika is my Son and I LOve HIm, and I'm So Sorry for hurting Corin like this, but not... really. Din is a Good Fiance and I'm proud of him for achieving his goals as an Australian Country Singer gaining traction in other countries.)
> 
> So it has been brought to my attention that I forgot a little fact about the world that I'd never Thought I'd forget, yet here we are.  
> Dogs are COLOURBLIND, plain and simple. I completely forgot this, however, so you my darling reader can combat this 1 of 3 ways.  
> 1 - this world, built around a song, and is completely fictional, is a land in which dogs can see colour  
> 2 - Ad'ika cannot see colour, just like his fur not being white (doesn't quite fit, else he'd want to be dirty with Everything, but still) With this, however, it means Din and Corin are Also idiots who forget that dogs are colourblind and Genuinely Think That Ad'ika Has A Favourite Colour.  
> 3 - Ad'ika is a magic dog. His superpower is seeing colours instead of using the force.
> 
> You may pick and choose as you will. The thing is cute and it is late, so I'm not taking it out.  
> Live with my mistakes.

The Razor, Din’s tour bus which was expertly driven by Crest, was barreling down the road as Corin tried to remember how to breathe curled up against Din’s side.

The screaming still rang in Corin’s ears, though his hearing had returned to his surrounding at least, progress. Din’s solid, if a little fast, heartbeat was under his ear, Ad’ika’s softly panting on his lap as he looked up at Corin. The whirring of the tour bus moving them further and further from the screaming of Din’s adoring fans.

Really, Corin blamed himself. He really should’ve just stayed at the hotel and waited for Din to return and recount everything that happened, but it was his first trip on the tour and that made it special. 

He was a little proud for how long he’d lasted, really. He’d just been playing with Ad’ika in the tour bus, which meant that he’d not really been paying attention to the noise anyway, but the added barrier of distance from the source helped a great deal. (Though Din had been very adamant about the bus being parked nearly three blocks away, Corin had argued valiantly about Din’s safety in regards to fans following him. Though the argument had lasted nearly an hour, his Mando only let up to one block away.) So although he could still hear the crowd going crazy it was far enough away to just make him feel proud of his fiance doing well, not anything worse.

When Din had returned to the tour bus, however, was a different story. 

He’d brought a large group of fans with him, not that he meant to, and they were all screaming and squealing their adoration. Din did his best to keep them away and keep them quiet, but the damage had already been done by the time he got inside. Corin had been on the floor with Ad’ika at the time, and immediately curled up on himself as his breathing became harsher and more shallow, his eyes as wide as saucers. Ad’ika was whining softly, trying to get into the space between his limbs to give him comfort, but Corin was as stiff as a statue. 

He couldn’t hear anything besides screams from his memory, of a time long past, the music of his nightmares, playing to the beat of pounding fists into flesh and drywall. The music of his mother’s last moments, and beatings that lasted years and years, screaming that echoed in Corin’s head until suddenly it had stopped one day. That was the day his mother died. She tripped on a loose floorboard and hit her head on the banister of the stairs, according to the police. The same stairs Corin had always been hidden under when the screaming began. 

The screams in his head plagued him after that, while the silence around him was suffocating. He’d wished so many times over that she’d scream again, at least there would be breath in her lungs then. 

So, for Corin, loud and long noises, but especially screaming, had become very harsh triggers to the worst time of his life. 

Din was aware of this fact, and immediately rushed to his fiance, tossing his hat away and sliding into a kneel in front of Corin as he began trying to work Corin back into the present while Crest, their driver, made his way out and away from the crowd.

That had been nearly half an hour ago, and Corin was still recovering. Trying to acknowledge his surroundings but his mind kept jumping back to review what had happened.

Din seemed to see this, as he pulled a blanket around Corin’s shoulders and pushed him back just enough to make eye contact.

“I want to sing for you, darl', ok? Something by an Aussie I listened to when I was little. Think you can listen to that?”

Corin smiled weakly, reaching up and tugging Din’s wrist to his lips, “Please.” 

He recoiled at the sound his voice made, hoarse and crackling. It sounded like he’d swallowed a handful of nails, and felt like it too.

Din smiled, his other hand finding its way to the back of Corin’s neck, trailing along his shoulder as not to startle him, before he tugged him forward gently into pressing their foreheads together. 

Both little traditions that had been solidified from the first time they’d gotten drunk together. When Corin was trying to be an alluring shit while Din cupped his cheek only to miss his palm entirely and kissed his wrist. When Din had tried to start a make out session only to miss and stood touching foreheads with Corin for several moments, both giggling too hard to kiss properly. Since then the little gestures had become their staple ways of showing affection, and comforting the other (usually Corin). 

Corin smiled into the touch, sighing in content, before Din drew back to retrieve his guitar. 

To distract himself from the wave of sudden touch-starvation that usually hit him when Din pulled away to do something, he turned his attention to the green-dyed pomeranian in his lap. 

Being green, apparently, was the little dog’s greatest wish in life according to Din. The little guy used to do everything in his power to forcibly dye his fur green. He’d rub his fur into grass to try and get grass stains all over, and it was quite the task to wash him, though you shouldn’t even get Din Djarin _started_ about the countless times the little trouble maker had jumped into green paint while Din tried to paint his apartment (with permission from the landlord). 

The thing was that it wasn’t any other paint, and he didn’t try anything with flowerbeds, so it was just the colour. To try and ease his own suffering, and water bill, Din had thought to try and dye him green properly _once_ . Just to calm him down, and maybe he could get this painting done without wasting all the paint. So, he went to his local vet and got a referral to a pet grooming service, and had his puppy professionally dyed green. Ad’ika had been _vibrating_ with excitement when he saw his fur, and would yap and pose for anyone to see him as they made their way home. He still did that sometimes, but that was more because he liked people than trying to show off. It was clear he loved it though, so he had stayed that way, being professionally dyed every month or so when it started to fade. 

Corin had never known the sweet boy to look any different from his soft green fluffy and adorable self. Just fluff, and cute, and green, from the tips of his short pointed ears to his constantly wagging tail. He was the sweetest dog Corin had ever met, and he adored the little guy. To the point where Paz teased that Corin was the real owner of their fluffy son.

Corin grinned down at his favourite fluffy boy, scratching Ad’ika’s ears as his tail wagged wildly in excitement at the attention.

“You’re just a sweet boy, aren’t you?” Corin teased, his voice still harsh but he powered through, “Just the cutest little guy aren’t you? My little greeny baby.”

“We’ve discussed the greeny cooing, C,” Din teased as he tuned his guitar. 

_When did he get that?_ Corin thought, but shrugged off the thought to instead roll his eyes, “And I acknowledge that the Australian political group “the Greenies” are dumb, and extreme with their disregard of Australian agriculture, farmers, and economy, even though their cause is righteous and good,” He looked purposefully, “But he’s just a green baby! Look at my greeny baby!”

Din smiled, sighing fondly, “I see the green baby. I remember when the green wasn’t so cute.”

Corin poked his tongue out and cuddled Ad’ika to his chest, which the pup had no objections to, if his happy yip and tail wagging even faster were anything to go by.

“You want to hear it?” Din asked gently, it was supposed to be sharp to bring them back to why Din was sitting all the way over _there_ and not cuddling with Corin, but it didn’t hit that at all. 

“Always,” Corin answered, knowing his fiance was a little vulnerable when he sang for just Corin. He lowered Ad’ika back to his lap to idly stroke his fur as he devoted his full attention to his fiance.

Din nodded, looking down to his guitar a little sheepishly (Anyone else would have thought the big tough singer was just trying to find the right purchase for his fingers. Corin knew better) as he began, a tune that was kind of fast, the beat a fair bit happier than what Corin had expected him to go with from the current situation, but he liked it anyway.

There were only about two bars of instrumental before Din because to sing, deep but light hearted, “This guitar only sings the way I play it, it's a part of me just like another arm! It started out as a little ukulele, when I was just a boy on the farm.”

Corin nodded along to the song, smiling at the ukulele comment as he remembered Din’s manager talking about hearing him in a pub, completely piss drunk, on the ukulele and deciding she’d take him on then and there.

“My fingers were too lazy for piano, but I could hold a tune pretty good!” 

Corin snorted, and Din faltered with the lyrics, melody still going, “Understatement.”

Din grinned proudly, and continued, “And I couldn't sing a song with a trombone, so I taught myself to play this piece of wood.”

Corin smiled proudly.

“But I know you are stayin' beside me,” Though the tone was still light, it was suddenly more emotional and Din’s voice cracked a little on “me”, “True lovers, we both feel the pain. And I'd throw this old box on the fire, before I'd ever lose you again.”

Corin tried to blink away his tears at the sudden sincerity in Din’s voice which didn’t quite match the upbeat song. He ignored the weight of guilt in his chest as he remembered waking up in the hospital after taking that bullet for his boyfriend-at-the-time and not-yet-sensation Din, and instead smiled reassuringly at his fiance.

“Well you never did like this old guitar, did you darlin',” Din smiled back, and Corin reeled in offence, “Cause the guitar takes your man away from you.”

Corin paused, cocked his head in thought, before he nodded in agreement.

“Monday I'll write a song for you darlin', That'll be the very best that I can do,” Din looked up, contemplating, “Will it be a song about a wild wind, will the thunder clap and flashes of blue? Or will it be a song about an angel,” He smiled, all love-sick and forlorn, “It'll never be as beautiful as you.” 

His tone was sincere, but the wink was uncalled for in Corin’s opinion. In retaliation Corin threw a cushion at his head before picking up Ad’ika to try and hide his growing blush.

“But I know you are stayin' beside me, True lovers, we both feel the pain. And I'd throw this old box on the fire, Before I'd ever lose you again.”

Corin smiled softly at the sincere tone carrying through, his eyes welling with tears again.

“This guitar only sings the way I play it, it's a part of me just like another arm. It started out as a little ukulele, when I was just a boy on the farm.” Din repeated the introduction, which must have been how the song went, before he stropped strumming, “But now I am a man with a man, The words I want to sing won't come through. No matter where this guitar's gonna take us, It'll never be as beautiful as you.” 

Corin had put Ad’ika down at some point, and just as the song finished he rushed forward and tackled his fiance with a hug, toppling off the chair into a pile of limbs with the guitar clattering to the other side.

“You’re flirting is so dumb and gross, I hate it,” He whined into Din’s shoulder.

Din pressed a kiss to his temple, not even caring about the guitar as he wraps his arms around Corin’s shoulders tightly, “You don’t,” He teased.

“I don’t! You damn Aussie, how dare you hit me with emotions! Aren’t you supposed to be emotionally constipated?!”

Din laughed boisterously, running a hand up Corin’s back and neck and burying it in his hair, “It’s cause I love you, guiliirr.”

“You still won’t tell me what that means!”

Din just laughed harder.

**Author's Note:**

> guiliirr = husband/wife/partner in Kamilaroi 
> 
> Yes, I am hinting that Din is indigenous and specifically kamilaroi. If any of you have a Problem with that you can Fight Me. I love him.
> 
> Anyway, yeah, I hope you enjoyed my SECOND songfic in a week. *nervously sweats in hyperfixaton*


End file.
